A.N. - This is the newest poem I have, and it's over eight months old. All the rest of the poems I've been posting constitute my backlog of work from the last five or so years. Even before that, I was not too much into writing rhymes like this, at least since high school or so. What I'm trying to say is, this is a departure. This very well might be the last piece I post for a while.

Second Shift

A brief illusion in the beamsof headlights on the road at nightis all that's left of me, it seemsleaving work long done and out of sight.

The hand that grips the wheel is firmbut the soul within is bleary and barethe eyesight dances, wavers, squirmsin search for sights not quickly there.

FM dial spun without an aimjust searching for the loudest songthe traffic noise rattles the frameof car and man as they speed along.